On the Dream Paths
by Levade
Summary: What if when dreaming, an elf could walk the "dream paths", not just of memory, but to meet and speak with those he/she knows? Glorfindel and Ecthelion. AU, not slash, pure broship.
_This? This is AU bordering on pure crack, but I have fun and entertain EverleighBain, so... Yes, elves do sleep. Do they go on dream paths? Doubt it, but maybe? I put some of what Tolkien said about Elves and dreams in the end note. I might post more of these, if you want to read them. Let me know?_

 _Really quick: These two have known each other since they were children, and in Aman they spoke Queyan, so Glorfindel was Laurefinde (Laure) and Ecthelion was Ehtel. Onward, hooooooo!_

* * *

 **Rohan**

"Did you see the horses, Thel?" Glorfindel's eyes were distant, unfocussed even as the stars dancing above the plains of Rohan filled his view. "Gorgeous animals. Not very many of pure black, of course. Their stock was pilfered by the Nazgûl. But the big grey dapple, still black in the legs. He moves as if he's dancing, like he's the best in the herd and knows it."

"We really have to stop meeting like this." Ecthelion sat next to his friend in the tall golden grass, but the gentle breeze playing through the grass didn't move his hair or clothing.

"Nonsense. If Námo hasn't stopped it by now, or gone to his brother to complain, then why should I stop?"

The ghostly image of Ecthelion shook his head, mouth curling in amusement. "What if I'm doing something right now and don't feel like meeting you on the dream paths?"

Glorfindel's smile lit his eyes. "You're here by your own will, Ecthelion. What else would you be doing this early in the night?" His friend was, even now, re-embodied and living in Aman - a night owl. "Or have you met some lady, wooed and married without telling me?"

A snort was his answer. "Not for lack of meeting eligible females. Do you know how many elves who sailed have waited until recent times to have children? There are hopeful mothers _everywhere_!"

The snicker earned Glorfindel a dry look. "Poor thing. How _ever_ shall you bear all of that attention?"

"Mothers, Glorfindel. With preening, simpering daughters. All of them seem bent on catching a First Age husband, as if crossing the ice was a qualification for a better husband."

"So find one you like and marry. That will end the hunt."

Rolling his eyes, Ecthelion wished a hoard of the hungry-eyed mothers on his friend. "What horses, by the way? All I see is grass."

"We're in Rohan, on our way to Gondor." Some of Glorfindel's brightness dimmed for a moment. "Arwen is to finally marry her king."

"Ah…" Leaning back on his hands and stretching long legs before him, Ecthelion gazed up at the sky. "I imagine this is a time of mixed emotions."

"You know she is Peredhel." Glorfindel couldn't help the hitch in his voice or the hurt in his heart. "She has made Lúthien's choice."

Silent a moment, Ecthelion sighed. "How is Elrond?"

"Torn." Plucking a long stalk of grass, Glorfindel twirled it between his fingers. "Aragorn is a son in all but blood, and even then, a distant kinsman through Elros. He loves the bo-" A snort for his mistake. "Elrond loves him, and he's near bursting with pride at what he has accomplished, but…"

"It is at the price of his daughter's mortality." Ecthelion nodded. "I cannot imagine how painful this is for him."

"He is Elrond, " Glorfindel said. "And so he is gracious and loving and kind, but his heart is a broken thing." He dared not even think of what the twins would do now that they knew their sister's choice. Their decision still lay before them. The uncertainty was another weight on a weary and heart-sore heart. "He will sail in a handful of years."

"So soon?"

"Ah, Thel…."Glorfindel shook his head, golden hair dancing in the breeze. "The loss of Celebrían would have broken most, but he had duty and that damned ring holding him here."

"And the children?"

"Yes. Though, now he is weary beyond bearing and losing Arwen will be a bitter ending."

Ecthelion shook his head. "Closing one part of life and beginning another, Laure. When he sails he will be reunited with his wife and though they will undoubtedly mourn their daughter they will be together." He met Glorfindel's dubious gaze. "It is something...and far better than the fate some have."

Glorfindel was quiet for a stretch of time, listening to the wind playing through the tall grass and the far-off noises of music. Somewhere, a celebration was still going on, long after the 'official' party was over.

"Perhaps, if the rumors are true, we will all meet again in Arda Remade."

"I hope so, Laure." Ecthelion sighed. "I truly hope so."

"Want to come and see the horses?"

"You just hate sitting still for any length of time."

"Well, yes, but they really are something else! And one, Gandalf's friend, Shadowfax, you must see him. He is a Meara, Thel!"

Silence for a long beat as Ecthelion pondered, but he finally looked at his friend. "What is a Meara?"

Standing, Glorfindel gestured. "Come and see."

"This had better be worth it."

"What, am I keeping you from your beauty sleep, Ehtel?"

Wishing he had the ability to physically smack his friend, Ecthelion snorted. "When I sleep, which is not all that often, apart from you knocking upon my brain to come and talk, it certainly isn't because of any supposed beauty."

"You are far too modest. Is it any wonder those mothers long to have you in their family?"

A sour look and Ecthelion began to walk. "Keep talking as if I am a stud horse and I shall leave you to your own company until you sail."

Throwing his head back to laugh, Glorfindel swept his hands through the stalks of golden grass. "Soon enough, my friend, and then those mothers had best lock up their daughters!"

* * *

 _ **A/N: Thank you for reading! Was it too out there? Not odd enough?**_

 _In a letter dated November 5, 1956 J.R.R. Tolkien wrote the following in response to a reader's letter:_

 _"It is plainly suggested that Elves do 'sleep', but not in our mode, having a different relation to what we call 'dreaming'. Nothing very definite is said about it (a) because except at a length destructive of narrative it would be difficult to describe a different mode of consciousness, and (b) for reasons that you so rightly observe: something must be left not fully explained, and only suggested."_


End file.
